enjoying "every minute" with the kids

this post is in response to enjoying time with the kids, posted by my good friend who is far too hard on herself!

if the time spent with one's children were similar to any activity in my life, i would say it would be likened to painting, where time as i know it ceases to exist. some moments i'm frustrated beyond belief trying to invent some sort of solution for my own brand of painting problem. those moments time stands still in a dark, beating my head against the wall over and over again kind of way. other times it's pure bliss, and i'm so happy and content to just push colour around that i forget to eat or sleep...

spending time with your kids is like no other. nothing nor no one is more dependent or demanding. some blocks of time go by slowly as a snail and you wish to god the kid would go to sleep already. when i notice those feelings in myself, i think i am in some serious need of some me time. i have no patience, nurturing, or even fun left to give. i tune out and do the dishes and convince myself it's good for my daughter to play by herself.

other blocks of time are dedicated to the baby crying at a frequency that seems to buzz through my nervous system and turn back the clock at once. ten minutes has passed by, but it feels like the longest hour EVER.

and at times, when your child is displaying putting together a new skill, or a few at once, or just laughing and enjoying the simplicity of digging a hole in the sand, time flies and dinner gets served an hour late. we are all completely in the moment and don't want that moment to end.

it seems that in my "routine" there is no time that is predictable, or anything close to how time existed before i became a parent. I have no idea what the ratio of enjoying the moment to complete frustration time is. It just is. And sure, I feel badly about it too at times. It's this constant battle within me to feel as though I am at once creating a free environment for my peanut to thrive and express herself confidently, while also keeping the equilibrium and disciplining the peanut without feeling like a cop. Sometimes the patience isn't there because I'm too tired, and I do feel like I'm a cop, simply controlling things rather than nurturing too.

this has been quite the rant, but really, all i want to say is that s, i've seen you totally engaged with your kids, and i'm sure that hasn't changed. enjoying every moment will never be realistic. these days when peanut is whining like a dying calf and driving me crazy i've taken to fast-forwarding in my mind to the teenage years when complete dismissal, shrugging shoulders, and a general 'parents are diseased' kind of attitude reigns, and i savour these tough moments too. but i'd never say they are always enjoyable.

A letter Regarding SLEEP ISSUES that I will never send... (a rant, a kvetch!)

dear i,

the last three nights have been rough on this mama. our little bundle of cuteness has been waking up every 45 minutes or so. i get up to soothe her back to sleep (without the boob as i am weaning her from night feeds), which means i'm standing up with her in my arms bouncing her up and down for a half an hour, humming the itsy bitsy spider over and over again until she reaches for the crib, when i finally lay her down for another 45 minute sleep, only to be awoken again to go through it all again. she's getting new teeth, but she's also just excited that she can stand in her crib by herself. she calls out to me to come and see, and if i don't come she gets scared that she's alone and cries. keeping my head about encouraging her to explore and feel confident in her new tricks, as well as trying to not stimulate her through the night and encourage sleep has been hard. and i'm doing it all alone.

while all this has been going on, you have been sleeping in the basement again. and while it doesn't make any sense for both of us to be up through all this, i'm still feeling angry. i'm angry when in the morning after you take her for a couple of hours so that i can have at least 2 hours of sleep under my belt to get through the day, when i thank you and take the baby, you feel the need to let me know you didn't sleep well either. and the way you put it bothers me. you say "if it makes you feel any better, i didn't sleep well either". ummm, no, it doesn't make me feel any better. and stating 'if it makes me feel any better' i feel is a passive aggressive way of being competitive in the woe is me department. i'm not too happy about it. i don't want to complain. i don't want to be tired, and i don't want you to be either. so why would it make me feel better? it would make me feel better if in the middle of the night you showed up and said, 'hey my love, why don't i take over with the baby so you can get some sleep'. it would make me feel better if you didn't complain about your own lack of sleep and you just simply recognized mine. it would make me feel better if you even did feel the need to complain by stating that you see that it's quite different when i'm being woken up by a dependent little being throughout the night who i have to get up for, who i have to put my own needs aside for, compared to when you are having trouble sleeping for your own reasons, and are frustrated staring at the ceiling (but are still comfortable lying down in your bed with the blanket over you).

what bothers me most is that you always make a stink about passive aggressive behavior but don't see it in yourself. we're both tired for entirely different reasons. i guess i would just like to hear you say that you think i'm doing a good job, that the giving on my part is so huge and that you appreciate that i'm doing it. i dunno what would make me feel better. i just need to get this out. i'm frustrated and feeling like a single mom in nighttime parenting. and yet you continue to ask me for my sympathy... and massages. i honestly am to tired and worn out to give anything right now and i wish you could see that and RESPECT it.

identity crisis revisited in my dreams

last night i dreamed that i had a show and was at the gallery setting up. there were several artists showing in the space. we each had our own little area to exhibit our work. i was unpacking my work, only to realize it wasn't my work at all. i looked at it and thought, 'ah well, close enough', and began to hang the work. as i started to arrange it i realized there were 2 pieces that had several parts to them. the paintings were like a puzzle of various sized canvases that all fit together somehow. the gallery director was walking by looking at me while i obviously had no idea how to put "my own" work together. i realized that i'd better go home and get my own paintings when the director asked me a couple of questions about the work and i didn't even know how to talk about it.

i started heading home when i saw other artists from the show lining up in some yard and figured i'd better do the same. i was thinking of how soon i'd be home and i'd get this all sorted out with the work, and i'd get to see peanut (my daughter) too. it is still very rare that i spend a couple of hours away from her. i was missing her so much. thinking about all this, i sat on a chair in this line up. my legs were apart and i was wearing a short skirt with no underwear. the director spotted me, and i ran to my car in embarrassment.

the end.

p.s. s, we are so in sync, no?

Identity Crisis Revisited

A few days ago, while I had my camera at my side to record sweet moments of my daughter crawling and exploring, I was busy cooking, baking and doing laundry. It was one of those days that I felt as though there must be something I'm doing incorrectly if there's this much to do at once.

I was making a curry inspired by the fresh corn I had just bought at the market. The peppers were arranged artfully on the cutting board. I grabbed my camera and snapped a couple of shots. I thought it was a good idea to document the work I do in a day to make myself feel better about the work I'm not doing in a day.


Then came the muffins. These were a successful try at inventing a healthful baked good for my almost 11 month old daughter. I had been feeling as though I had been feeding her the same old thing day after day, and not feeling good about giving her store bought breads etc. I still give her cereals, but want to include more grains in her diet. Baking was the answer, and here was the result:



I'm going to share the recipe with you before I get into why I think I must be insane, and how this all has to do with the identity crisis at hand...

Corn and Oat Baby Muffin Recipe (Mom and Dad love them too!)

1/2 cup old-fashioned rolled oats
3/4 cup boiling water
1/2 cup raisins
4 tablespoons unsalted butter
1/4 cup unsweetened apple sauce
1 cup whole yellow cornmeal
1 cup whole wheat flour
1/2 cup oat flour
2 tbsp flax seeds
1 tbsp baking powder
1/2 tsp baking soda
1/4 cup plain yogurt
1/2 cup milk
2 large eggs

-preheat oven to 375 degrees F.
-greast muffin tin
-place oats in mixing bowl and pour boiling water over them. add raisins and butter. -stir to combine, then set aside to cool.
-whisk together cornmeal, flours, baking powder and soda, salt.
-stir buttermilk and eggs into the cooled oat mixture
-add dry ingredients and mix until everything is moist
-bake for 25 minutes.

-adapted from King Arthur Flour's Whole Grain Baking Book

Okay, so my insanity has brought us a new recipe which my kid looooooves. Honestly, she went nuts over these. It was hard to get her to eat anything else once the muffins were introduced.

But in looking at my photos, I see a perfectionist. A perfectionist that I don't normally associate with myself. Then I feel sad and I mourn the creator in me who just enjoys making things. In the days before the baby came along, it would have warmed my heart just to make a nice meal for friends. Now I'm documenting it to prove something to myself about productivity. I'm producing a human being over here for god's sakes! What the hell am I doing to myself?

And in that day that I baked the perfect muffins, made the awesome and artful curry, I did 3 loads of laundry, washed dishes, took my kid to the park, ran for half an hour, and did 3 hours of money earning work.

My therapist and I have been talking about this at length. I have been crying about this at length. As it turns out, I am realizing that not only am I trying to be the great and present parent that my parents were not, I'm also listening to a voice in my head that isn't altogether my own.

My dad passed away almost 2 years ago. He was a tough guy. Lovely in some ways, and particularly if I were "hitting home runs", as he used to call it. In other ways, he could be very hard on me, particularly if I wasn't doing what he considered productive (aka making moolah.) Apparently when a parent passes away, the negative or positive voices they once spoke become stronger as a way of keeping them alive. And while I had some very positive words from him, I was very sensitive to the negative, and that's what I hear.

I have no doubt that I'm being hard on myself for several reasons, many of which I blame Hollywood and the boob-tube for. But I can't ignore the fact that my dad's voice creeps up the moment I find myself relaxing. I remedy the voice echo by getting up and working my ass off. This is nothing new, but has become worse since I have become a mother. It's a many layered problem with reasons feeding reasons.

I'm glad to know that though the millions of baby books out there don't usually touch on this subject, there are others out there who are experiencing the same thing. My bestest friend S sent me to this blog entry, and I was happy to read that my insanity in this respect is not altogether unusual.

First Time Mom = Major Identity Crisis

I never thought it would happen to me. I always thought I was pretty secure in knowing who I am. As it turns out, I have taken the societal myth of the "Super Mom" quite seriously on a subconscious level. I feel that I have to be the best at everything, that I need to wow myself and the world at large by being a fantastic parent, housekeeper, cook, artist, designer, breadwinner, daughter, sister, friend, etc. The pressure I have put on myself since becoming a mother is unreal and unbearable.

I have a daughter that doesn't sleep. I am with her during the day, and am up with her through the nights often as well. (I have just started to wean her from her night feeds, so hopefully this will change soon! Please let it change soon!) For several months now, I have been working every moment that she sleeps. I have taken on contracts beyond what I feel to be reasonable, work my butt off to impress my clients, all so that I can feel as though I am not only a mother, but also surpassing clients expectations of a job well done.

What is bizarre about this is that I somehow have forgotten to pat myself on the back for a job well done as a parent. I'm not perfect by any means, but I know I am a thoughtful parent; that I try my very best to provide as much love, support, patience, stimulation and empathy I can muster for my daughter to thrive. As any mother knows, it is a full time job. Overtime, in fact. It's a job that I love. I adore my daughter and am so happy to be home with her, caring for her, watching her grow into a thinking individual. It's the most wonderful job I could imagine.

So why am I trying to prove to myself that I am so much more when being this I love? I guess I find it hard to drop my old identity. It's hard to stop seeing myself as being self sufficient - to admit that I am so stretched thin that I can't expect myself to make a good income right now. And if I am taking on work, I may not wow them every time.

I never realized how hard I am on myself until recently. I only really started to see it when it became so bad that it stopped making sense even to me. I couldn't justify my actions. I couldn't explain to myself how or why I was taking on more.

I've promised myself to break the pattern of this madness. I need to rely on my husband more and not feel terribly about it. I need to feel great about my new identity because it truly is a wonderful thing, and an important job. When new jobs present themselves I need to assess why I feel like taking it, if I feel pressure to do so - from within or otherwise. I need to keep my eye on the ball - the ball being my baby and my health. What am I teaching my little girl by running myself into the ground. I don't want her to follow this example. I want her to be happy, to enjoy life. And enjoy life she will!

In the last week with this identity crisis on the brain, a few great opportunities in my art career have come to fruition. I am now being represented by another gallery here in my city, was invited to exhibit in a group show that is pretty darned exclusive, and then another invitation to a group show as well. Doors are opening in the areas that are important to me. I don't want to be a business lady. If I have baby barf on my shoulder and paint on my hands, I'm all the happier.

to have or not to have, that is the question

today i witnessed my daughter's jealousy for the first time while i had another baby in my arms. later i mentioned to i (my husband), that it was interesting to see that, and that i guess we're in trouble when we have another baby. 'i' quickly stated that he didn't think having another would be a good idea for us - he didn't think our relationship would survive it. he didn't think it would be good for either of us individually. one baby is enough of a strain.

we had had a particularly difficult day with our baby girl. she's teething, she's not sleeping, she doesn't want to play on her own and only wants to be in our arms. she's going through some growing pains - yet another trying stage. i have accepted that this is what parenthood is about. and despite how hard it can be, it's the most rewarding thing i can imagine. i do want another. i don't wait my girl to grow up an only child. i want her to share her life with another kid. to share in general. i want a family - not a family that is so small that we can try to pretend it isn't there. i want birthday parties, celebration, creativity, craziness, and even the growing pains.

my husband clearly thinks that this is all too much. i often find myself frustrated with him for seeing the glass half empty. i feel as though he's hard on us as a couple. yes, we've had some tough times, but we also have always had a lot of good. i also have heard of many men saying for a while after the first one that they aren't interested in having another, but change their minds. i really don't know if that is the case with i. i sometimes wonder if he has the capacity at all to be happy. i've only seen moments of it, and it really scares me that it's never been sustained.

here i am, kvetching about his unhappiness while just a couple of days ago i wrote an entry about depression. but i think that even if i have a bit of a case of the blues, i still see the sun shining, listen to kids laughter, pleasure in cooking up a storm, being creative, smell the roses and let it all warm my heart.

the worst is that i feel that all of i's reasons for why things have been difficult are because of me: i got sick on our trip to india and the virus hung on for nearly a year, then my dad died, then i got pregnant and was sick through that, then the baby came and was colicky. it's all my fault. what about his extreme moodiness, his lack of flexibility, his inability to deal with change. what about his disappointment in his family, his struggle to feel good about himself and what he is doing in his life. there are so many things that he has been dealing with since i met him. and yet the things i have struggled through are the reasons why he is not happy.

i'm feeling so sad, angry, frustrated. hopeless really. i'm sad for my daughter, sad for me, sad for him. life is so hard. brutally hard sometimes. but so beautiful too. i think of parenthood and particularly the process of birthing to then beginning a life with your child as the epitome of the pain and beauty of life. it's so contrasting; black and white, pain and pleasure.

A list of topics I'd like to write about...

my birth story

postpartum body image issues

finding the time and inspiration to be creative

a new mother's identity crisis - who the hell am i?!

my mother's style of "mothering"

raising a child when you come from a severely dysfunctional family

baby sleep issues

competitive moms at the park

everyone's an expert when it comes to someone else's child

dreaming of freedom from the daily grind - missing going on dates with my guy, traveling, late nights out with girlfriends, shopping without worrying about my dependents, talking about something other than the baby with my partner

making parental decisions and sticking to them